


a moment in time

by kaas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, a really terrible writing piece, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11362452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaas/pseuds/kaas
Summary: Hajime looks into a strangers eyes. Emotional turbulence ensues.





	a moment in time

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy the product of one of my melancholy days followed by a cheerful one (repeat x3)!

In the crowded city full of loud conversations, accidental brushes, mumbled apologies, blatant touches, subtle movements begging to fit in, and bright colors aching to be seen, anything could happen. A bright eyed and bushy tailed child could become a sullen adult in a blink of an eye, a friendship could fly away in front of someone’s eyes, a fire could burst and crackle from nothing in an instant, a glance could be the start of something unforgettable.

Hajime knew this. He reminded himself of this grounding fact through his adventures through the bustling roads and lonesome streets, through the words he shared with a pedestrian in passing and the anger he harbored towards a person who’s eyes he had never met. He was aware that although the city, his city, may seem like a place that smelled of sweet flowers and candy, it was just a home. A home to many different people with new faces and abstract personalities he had yet to discover, although he never truly intended to. 

This city was for him, not his to conquer nor rule, but to be at home. He could hold a conversation with the kind woman on the bus or his next-door neighbor, but he didn’t care enough to share his world with them. 

He kept this bond with himself, every waking hour, and he told himself that he was no more use to the other world if he tried to establish connections within it than if he kept to himself. Through the rain, snow, and sun, and the passing days, weeks, and years, he kept this promise. His life, if you could describe it as one, was a continuing loop of resting, working, eating, and whatever he deemed necessary that in particular cycle of time.

He continued his routine through the jostle of a crowded train one morning after the next, until he didn’t. 

The stranger’s eyes were what stood out to him. Not the soft curly hair, or the lean muscular frame, or the teal shirt that fitted him so well, but the soft brown eyes that radiated light and happiness, but also loneliness and melancholy. He wanted to hold his gaze until he swam through the depth in his eyes, finding treasures great and small. The multitude of adventures, emotions, tales of heartbreak and of triumph, and he wanted to relive them all.

He itched to reach out and find the stranger and hold him close, welcome him into his lonely world and share it with him, every passing moment, past, present, or future. He needed this human in his life so badly, although they had never exchanged so much as a word.

In the brief moments in which the stranger held his gaze, he wondered about soulmates and love at first sight, two things he had considered to be overly childish and naïve for him to invest in, but suddenly he found himself praying that they were true. In those few seconds, he found himself contradicting many of his previous beliefs. 

He knew that his life wasn’t meant to smell like roses, or have a bright hue that made it exciting to live, to make him always eager to find out what laid ahead of him. A single glace couldn’t possible change his judgement of the world. It was impossible that the sight of two soft eyes could turn his life upside down. Despite the impossible, they did. 

Frozen in time, he found himself reevaluating everything he believed. He suddenly found himself with a desire to get more out of living, not just to go through the motions of it. Before he could act on his newfound aspiration, he was whisked away to his destination. He felt like screaming at the train to stop, to please go back, I must find that man. But life moved on, without those eyes in front of him.

The rush of life continued, and for the first time in a very long time, he found himself wishing to slow down, to let him think, please. Those eyes haunted him through out every moment. When he woke up, the chocolate depths were the first thing he saw, and when he fell asleep, the stories behind them were last thought he had. 

Hajime wrote pages and pages about the eyes that pulled him through his life, the eyes that seemed so familiar and yet so distant. He described their depth, the endless tales they held, and the mysteries that he itched to solve. The many futures those irises held, and the way they invited him to dig deeper and find every last secret they held. He wrote about the many times he caught the sight of the head of brown curls in an ever-bustling crowd of people in front of a department store, and the many times he swore he saw the tall lean frame sauntering about the rows of a library or a grocery store.

As for the stranger’s eyes, however, he didn’t have to imagine them anywhere. They were always in his mind, omnipresent and comforting. He searched every corner of the city for hints of where the man might be, but he found nothing. The many people who read his works wrote him heartfelt letters promising to look for the strange man, but no one ever did. 

Life went on. Hajime still had his passion for finding the pair of eyes that plagued him through every step and every breath, although, as time passed, it occasionally drifted towards the back of his thoughts. He could never let go of the memory, though. The moment he saw that stranger for the last time was still there, in every breath he took. Occasionally he found himself daydreaming about what his life would be like with those eyes in it, something he never would have thought he would do before he saw that stranger.

People kept asking about the eyes that cropped up in his writing often. His editors, his readers, his family, and others all wanted to know who this person was, so they bombarded him with questions. His answer was always the same to their questions: Do you even know this person? Have you found someone special, Iwaizumi-san? Will you bring him home for dinner, Hajime-kun? He had to convince most people that this man, those eyes, were not a figment of his imagination, that they were not something he’d dreamed up in a coffee induced coma.

After too many skeptical inquiries, Hajime found himself asking the questions. What if he really did make up those eyes? What if the stories he’s seen in them were nothing but a story his lonely mind had made up in the absence of passion and desire in his desolate life? How could h know that the man existed. He sulked around for a great amount of time after he came to this realization, sullenly asking himself whether this was real, whether the light in those eyes was true. He convinced himself that they were imagination, after all, he had searched for so long, to no avail.

Days and weeks of demands for a piece of work that was not downright depressing, for something that painted a picture of happier times, of sweet flowers and candy. All Hajime could produce was a canvas of sorrow, of tears and puddles of the ground. Days and weeks of concerned phone calls, worried about his well-being. He repeated to them all that he was fine, he promised. He convinced even himself that he was fine, there was nothing wrong with him, he was just a little tired.

Time carried on, as it was supposed to. Hajime pushed himself further and further. To where he was pushing himself to, he was unsure, but he forced himself to keep moving. He was still burdened by the memory of those eyes, although they seemed melancholy now, whispering to him in his sleep that they wanted to be found, so please look for them, please. He still imagined the man’s curls in long lines, his broad shoulders in busy train stations, but he knew that it was just his mind betraying him yet again.

The smell of sweet candy and flowers gradually faded from his life, along with most of the hope of meeting those eyes again. The numbness and the routine from before crept back into his life, and soon he was following the same routine. If he searched hard enough, he could find a glimmer of hope inside of his heart, in the very corner. He told himself that it was worthless to hope. He knew that even if the man was real, in a city like his, there was no possibility of finding that man, those eyes.

But just when that glimmer of hope was inches away from being lost forever, it was found again.

His eyes, this time wearier and more worn out, met his, and suddenly his world bust back into color. 

Hajime moved towards the light faster than he thought possible.

A gentle hand on a shoulder. 

A simple question.

A radiant smile.

“Oikawa Tooru.”

**Author's Note:**

> p.s. I'll probably keep editing this as time goes on, because I want to see if I can make it better  
> p.p.s. I'm looking for a beta, so if you want to subject yourself to that, let me know:)  
> p.p.p.s (is that a thing?) I may write another chapter. maybe.


End file.
